


Housekept

by wolfinred (clare_dragonfly)



Series: Recovery [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Case Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare_dragonfly/pseuds/wolfinred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Philadelphia, someone is kidnapping and murdering women with engagement rings. One of those women is an old friend of Emily's. Meanwhile, Spencer figures something out that he should have noticed a while ago.</p><p>References to drug addiction and rape (not explicit).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housekept

The night Spencer called Emily, needing her help, she came over and sat with him all night. She made him tea, then put on the TV and sat him on the couch next to her. He doesn't remember what they watched; he just remembers her constantly bringing his attention back to the show and reminding him to drink another sip of the tea. Distracting him. Keeping his mind off the protests his body was making.

When he had to throw up, she held his hair back for him, joking that it reminded her of college. He drank another cup of tea, and kept it down this time. Eventually, he fell asleep on the couch.

His dreams are jumbled and vivid--probably inspired by the sounds from the TV that his subconscious mind could still pick up--but they fade. When he wakes up, he is alone. He rubs his eyes, then sits bolt upright. The angles of the sunlight coming in the windows are all wrong. He might not be in his bedroom, but he knows it's the wrong time of morning. He stumbles to his feet and starts looking for a clock, then sees that his answering machine is blinking at him. He presses play.

Hotch's voice. "Reid, Prentiss said you were still sick and probably wouldn't be coming in today. I just wanted to check up on you. If you're really sick, go to the doctor, okay? You've had a bad experience. And don't come in today, even if you feel better. Call me anytime. See you when you're feeling better."

Spencer finds a clock. He's already missed the ten o'clock briefing. He considers going in anyway, then dismisses the thought. Hotch will just send him back home.

He wanders into the kitchen, where there's more light, and opens a window. The late October air is chilly, but it feels good. In the light, he realizes he's still just wearing his boxers and a ratty sweater, and blushes, though there's no one here to see him. Emily didn't say anything last night, but still, he's sorry she had to see him like this.

He stands in the breeze and ponders whether to have a shower or food first, then decides on food, since he's unlikely to pass out from his own smell while cooking. He thinks about making bacon but the thought of the smell makes his head hurt, so instead he toasts a pair of frozen waffles and slathers peanut butter and blackberry jam on them.

He showers, dresses in real clothes, and goes back into the kitchen to make himself another sandwich. He wonders why he's so hungry, but decides not to question it. It's better than the opposite. Thus fortified, he goes back into his bedroom and sits down at his desk, to make up for the letters to his mother he's missed and to make sure meeting times haven't changed.

\--

Spencer is reading a book on handwriting analysis, in his living room with the TV finally shut off, when there's a knock at his door. It can only be one of the team, so he doesn't bother to look through the peephole before he unlocks and opens it. The face he sees isn't a surprise at all, but his spirits lift a little. He's glad it's her again.

"You look a lot better," Emily comments.

"I feel a lot better," he responds, stepping aside and gesturing for her to come in. "Thank you." She's carrying a paper bag, from which vaguely food-like smells emerge. "What's that?" he asks.

"I figured you might not have eaten all day, so I picked up some burritos on the way," she says, holding it up.

Does that mean she came straight here from the BAU without going home first? He should feel guilty about that, but mostly, he's pleased. "I have eaten, actually, but that smells great." He locks the door again behind her and leads her into the kitchen. He pulls out paper plates and sets them out on the island. "Do you want something to drink? I have, uh, water... and tea."

"Water's fine." She grins at him and pulls the burritos out of the bag.

He fills two glasses with water and sits at one of the tall stools on the island, his feet perched on the bottom rung. She's already into her burrito. "So how was the BAU without me?" he asks, trying to sound jokey.

"Quiet. Place practically echoes." She swallows her burrito and grins at him again. "Oh, Morgan says he'll probably come by later, after he's taken care of Clooney."

"Oh. Good." And yet he feels disappointed. Has he really been hoping to have the evening alone with her? She's probably going to head home once they've finished their dinner anyway.

She looks closely at him. "Are you sure you're doing okay?"

"Yes." He takes a deep breath. "I'm not saying everything's perfect."

"Of course not," she cuts him off, shaking her head. "But if there's anything you need, I'm always available."

"Actually, there is something." She nods at him and tosses her hair back. He continues, "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

\--

He's back at the BAU the next day, and everything is back to normal. Except it's not. They have their daily briefings, their paperwork, their cases, their interviews. But every Tuesday night is something new. Emily and Spencer go home separately, and about a half hour later, Emily's car pulls up in front of his apartment building. He's always waiting. She drives him to a meeting fifteen minutes away. Sometimes they're quiet, sometimes they talk about a case, or about something in their personal lives. Always, he's happy to have her there.

He doesn't need her to drive him, of course. There's a bus that drops him off not too far away, and if he really needed to, he could drive himself. But it's comforting to have someone there, to be reminded that he has people who care about him. And if he's honest with himself--which he always tries to be--he knows he might miss meetings if there wasn't someone making sure he got to them, and then he might slip. That's what he's trying to avoid. The cravings haven't gone away completely.

She doesn't come into the meetings with him, of course. She sits out in the car with a book, or sometimes with some knitting (apparently, Garcia is trying to teach her to knit, but Emily says she doesn't really have the patience for it--she has been working on the same scarf for the last three weeks). So when he comes out of the meeting, invariably feeling a little lighter and a little calmer, she's always there to improve his mood a little more. Once, he reaches almost thoughtlessly for her hand as he climbs into her passenger seat, then snatches it away at the last moment.

She offers to drive to a restaurant, but he declines. Better to get himself a good night's sleep.

He doesn't, because she's too much on his mind.

\--

But the next morning he forgets all that in the case JJ presents to them. "Philly PD sent us this last night," she says in the briefing room. "They're not sure it's worth our time. Frankly, I'm not either, so I defer to you, the experts." A ghost of a smile. The pictures she puts up on the screen are of four young women, all of their faces, necks, and, from what they can see, arms, marred with bruises and lacerations. "These women have all been found in the Schuylkill River over the last three weeks. They were all strangled and all beaten badly before their deaths, and all have signs of rape."

"Could be coincidence," says Rossi.

"Could be a serial killer," says Morgan, and his voice is more confident. "When is it ever a coincidence?"

Hotch nods. "They're all a vaguely similar type."

"All killed in the same way," Spencer agrees. "If we go there, we could get a closer look at the wounds and see if they could have been caused by the same man."

"Bruise marks on the neck should give us something," says Morgan. "I say we go for it. Prentiss?"

Emily hasn't said anything, so Spencer looks over at her too. She's even paler than usual, and her hands are white-knuckled, gripping the arm rests of her chair. He leans over to her. "Prentiss?" he says gently.

"I know her," Emily manages in a choked voice.

All eyes are on her now. "One of the victims?" Morgan asks quietly.

Emily nods, a single controlled jerk of her head. "The last one. That's Katya. Katya Taft. We went to high school together. For a year, anyway. We still talk occasionally." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I just got mail from her... just last week..." She trails off, then shakes herself. "It was a wedding invitation. She was getting married."

"Emily, if you want to sit this one out..." Hotch says. There's no more discussion of not investigating this.

"No." Emily shakes her head hard, sending her usually impeccable hair flying. "I'll be all right. It was just a shock." She's loosened her grip on the arm rests, and now her face is steely and determined. "We'll catch this bastard."

\--

In Philadelphia Hotch assigns Spencer and Morgan to go look at the bodies and talk to the coroner, but Emily insists on going to see Katya's body, so Morgan stays behind. Spencer tries to ignore the heat of her body so close to his as he measures the bruising on the necks of the two victims who haven't been buried yet. At least his hands don't shake. The bruises match.

"So you think this is a serial killer, huh?" asks the coroner, skepticism obvious in his voice.

"We're not sure yet," Spencer replies, glad to move away from the dead bodies and move back into analysis of the case. "The similarity in the victims and the killing method makes it worth a look, but usually victims are more similar than these four young women are. We haven't found anything to connect them yet." He gestures at dead Katya's neck. Emily is still standing there, staring at the body of her friend. "Did the bruises on the other two women's necks look similar to these two?"

The coroner frowns at the bruises and finally shrugs. "I guess so. About the same hand size." He's less skeptical now.

Spencer nods. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the bodies?"

"Yeah. They were bruised pretty bad, just about all over, and with some cuts and scratches too. I found some splinters in one of the wounds, we've got our CSI guys working on that. But they all had fresh bruises and old ones too. Couple layers of them."

It's looking more and more like they were right to come here. The coincidences are building up a bit too high. "How old were the oldest bruises?" Spencer asks.

The coroner purses his lips. "Five days at least on one of them. The others, at least three or four days."

"Thank you." That's good news. If the killer is keeping them for several days, they'll have more of a chance of rescuing the next victim.

"Where's her ring?" Emily asks suddenly.

"Sorry?" says the coroner.

Emily points at Katya's left hand. "Her engagement ring. I know she wore it, there were pictures on Facebook."

The coroner goes to his desk and checks his notes. "No jewelry found on her."

Spencer goes to the other victim and picks up her left hand. As he suspected, there's a small dent, slightly pale, in the skin of her left ring finger. "What about this victim?" he asks the coroner.

He shakes his head. "Found a necklace and a couple pairs of earrings on her, but no ring."

Emily and Spencer meet each other's eyes. They've found the victim pattern.

\--

"Find out anything useful?" Hotch asks as soon as they get back to the room.

"They were both engaged," Emily says immediately. "We'll have to check on the other two."

"It could have been a wedding ring on the other victim," Spencer says.

"But you don't think so, and neither do I."

"They had worn rings, but you didn't find the rings?" Hotch asks.

"Exactly," says Emily. "The other victim had other jewelry on her body. He's taking them as trophies."

"Did the bruises match?" Morgan asks.

"On the two we could see, yes," Spencer replies. "Also, this is really important--the coroner said most of them had bruises that were at least three or four days old. So he's keeping the victims for several days before he kills them."

"Good," said Rossi. "That will buy us time."

The police captain, standing in the corner with his arms folded, raises his eyebrows at them. "So you're pretty sure this is a serial killer?"

"At this point, we can be fairly confident that yes, this is a serial killer," says Hotch.

"Damn," says the captain. "I guess I owe Reyes that six-pack."

Morgan is already dialing his phone. "Hey there, my buxom beauty."

They all hear Garcia's giggle on the speaker. "I think you want something, Special Agent Derek Morgan."

"Don't I always? Can you get us a list of women in Philadelphia who are engaged to be married?"

"Ooh, that's gonna be a tricky one, honeybunch. I can search through newspapers for engagement and marriage announcements, but not everybody takes those out."

"I know. Just do your best."

"Always do. And you know my best is damn good."

"I know, baby girl. Ciao."

The captain snorts. "You always talk to your analyst like that?"

"Always," JJ and Spencer say at the same time, then laugh.

"Okay, we're going to have to talk to the families and fiancés," says Hotch. "Fiancés first, if we can. Chances are good that the first victim's fiancé is the killer."

"I'll talk to Katya's fiancé," Emily says quickly. She glances at Spencer, then down again. "By myself. We've met before, it will be easier that way."

"Fine." Hotch nods. "Do we have fiancés on file for the other victim?"

The captain pushes off from the wall. "I'll get the full files. See if we have that information."

\--

Peter Harris, Katya's fiancé, lives in a swanky apartment near the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Emily finds parking on a side street and walks more than a block to get to the building. She shows the doorman her badge, takes the elevator to the fifth floor, and knocks on Peter's door.

Her first thought when he opens it is that he looks tired, older. Then his eyes widen. "Emily Prentiss?"

"I'm surprised you remember me," she says. They've met before, but only once, years ago. He and Katya weren't engaged yet then.

He smiles, but it doesn't touch his eyes. "I've been looking at Katya's pictures... I guess you've heard?"

He can tell she's not expecting to see her friend in the apartment. And why would she be here if not to give her condolences? She nods. "Can I come in?"

"Of course, of course." He opens the door wider and steps aside. She walks in and looks around. It's a beautiful apartment--expensive furniture, artistically arranged--but it's dusty and rumpled, as if no one has thought about it for a few days. "The funeral's not until Friday..." he says uncertainly.

She looks down at her hands. "I know. I'm actually here with the FBI."

He slams the door, probably harder than he meant to, and turns to look at her. "The FBI? Why? What's going on?"

"We believe that Katya's death may be connected to a string of similar killings," she says carefully.

"A serial killer?"

"Yes, most likely."

Peter sits down heavily in one of the leather armchairs. "Well, I guess that helps answer one of the hard questions." His voice is shaky.

"The question of why anyone would want to hurt her?"

"Exactly." He looks up, his head still in his hands. "Sit down, Emily, please."

She takes the other armchair. "Whoever did this is deranged. You don't have to worry about whether you, or Katya, did anything to draw the killer's attention. All you did is get engaged, and that should never end in pain."

He nods and lets his hands fall into his lap. "Thank you, Emily. That actually helps."

"Now, I wish I could just stay here and chat," she says, "but I need to ask some questions to help us catch Katya's killer."

"Of course." He takes a long, deep breath. "I'll answer whatever I can."

"You reported her missing on Saturday morning?"

"That's right. She didn't come home Friday night, but she'd been out with some friends. I expected her before midnight, but I wasn't worried when she didn't show. When she wasn't there in the morning and I couldn't get her on her cell--it just kept ringing--I got worried."

"What are the names of the friends she was with?"

He tells her, and she writes them down. More people to talk to. More people she'll have to take it on herself to talk to. She can't let anyone else pry into Katya's life. She looks down at the three names. Maybe she'll have Spencer come with her to talk to them. That will make things easier.

Emily squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, then continues with the questioning. "Had she made any new male friends recently, or was there anyone you or she had noticed following her?"

\--

Meanwhile, Spencer and Hotch are at the home of Jonathan Gray, the first victim's fiancé. He's very young, and still lives with his parents--a religious family. There's panic in his eyes when they ask to speak to him, but it's not the panic of a killer who knows he's cornered. It's the panic of someone who's lost his whole world and doesn't know what to do about it.

They go into the family's small living room and sit down on uncomfortable furniture. Jonathan sits on a wooden, straight-backed chair and keeps folding and refolding his hands. "I thought the police had given up on finding out who killed Dora," he says. "Why is the FBI here?"

"We believe her death is connected to several other deaths in the city," Hotch says.

"So you're going to find who did this."

"We are," Hotch assures him. "But we need your help."

Jonathan nods and shifts in his seat, straightening up a little. "Anything you need."

They go through all the questions. He doesn't know anything. They had both been busy, working hard to get the money for their wedding and their life afterward, when she would be expected by his family and hers to give up any work outside the home to have children. She had been working as a housekeeper, but he doesn't know who her employer was, just that it was in Fairmount and paid well. Reid files that away, remembering to ask Garcia to look into the employer.

When they get up to go, Jonathan looks up at them with wide blue eyes, his hands now folded tightly in his lap, probably to keep them from trembling. "Did I help?"

"Of course you did," Hotch says. "With this information, we are closer to catching the killer." Spencer hopes it's true.

\--

They gather at the police station again. Spencer notices that Emily's eyes are just a little red, but when she looks over at him, he looks away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. She's beautiful even if she's been crying.

Where did that thought come from? Shake it off, Spencer. Focus on the case.

They've spoken to all of the fiancés now. The families will have to wait until tomorrow. It's getting late. But there's still a call to Garcia to be made. She answers before it's fully rung once. "Talk to me, my mad genius," she says.

Garcia can always make him smile a little. "The first victim, Dora Selby. Do you have employment records for her?"

"Sure do, sugar. Nothing for two and a half months before she went missing, though."

He frowns. "Nothing about her working as a housekeeper?"

"Her last job is as a housekeeper."

"Okay, send us that information. We'll look into it."

"Anything else for me?"

"Not tonight. Thanks, Garcia."

"Anything for my babies."

He hangs up. The employer from two and a half months ago obviously isn't the one the fiancé told them about, so that one must be under the table. It will be tough to track, but if there's something to hide, they might be able to hold him on just that.

"Everyone get some rest," Hotch is saying. "We'll want to be up early tomorrow to talk to the families."

At the hotel, Emily stops Spencer with a hand on his arm. His heart rate speeds up. "What's up?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Can I ask for a favor?" she asks.

He smiles warmly, feeling foolish, but what else can he do? "Of course. Anything you need."

She smiles back, some of the stress fading from her face at that. "After we talk to families tomorrow, I'm going to talk to some of Katya's friends, the ones she was out with the night she disappeared. Will you come with me?"

He's surprised, but he can hardly refuse, even if he wanted to. "No problem. Just let me know when you're ready to go."

"Thanks, Reid." They ride the elevator up together, in silence. Spencer imagines he can feel the heat of her body across the six inches of space, permeating the elevator's small area. When he gets to his room, it takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he's not thinking about the case.

\--

"She said she had a new job," says the second victim's sister. "She'd been out of work for a while, so that was a big deal."

Spencer's head snaps up. "Was it as a housekeeper?"

The sister nods, startled. "How did you know?"

He and Morgan nod at each other. "We think this killer may be targeting women who work as housekeepers," Morgan explains. "Do you know anything about her employer?"

The sister frowns. "No, I don't, but she never made it to work. Or if she did, it was only for one day. We never heard from her after that."

Well, that makes sense with Spencer's theory, that the killer is the one hiring them. When they meet up again, he'll have to find out if the others also had jobs as housekeepers.

As they're leaving and Morgan is on the phone with Garcia, Spencer's phone rings. It's Hotch. "They've found another body."

Spencer closes his eyes. "We showed up too late."

"Actually, this one's older," says Hotch. "Definitely from before Katya Taft. She was half buried in an abandoned lot."

"Want us to meet you there?" Spencer asks, gesturing to Morgan not to start the car yet.

"No, just back at the station. We'll be leaving soon anyway. Did you get anything from the family?"

He explains his theory about the killer hiring the housekeepers. "Makes sense," Hotch says. "Get Garcia to look into that. See you soon."

"Back to the station," Reid says to Morgan as he hangs up. "They found another body. An older one. What did Garcia have?"

"No employment records for any of the victims before their deaths. She tried looking at their bank accounts, but apparently they didn't get paid, either."

"He's hiring them to kill them."

"Exactly. But that had to start somewhere, didn't it?"

"With Dora. He hired her, then decided to kill her."

Morgan shakes his head, gesturing violently. "Look at the dates."

"Watch the road," Spencer interrupts nervously. Morgan's a good driver, but he needs both hands.

"Sorry. My point is, they all go missing before the next body is found. He's not taking them to replace them, he's keeping two at once."

Spencer winces as Morgan makes a dangerous pass. "Are you sure about that?"

"Pretty sure. We'll make a timeline when we get back to the station. The dates from the newest victim should help." Morgan takes a deep breath, slowing to stop at a red light. "At least she's not brand-new. He must have another one, though. Garcia couldn't find any missing women who are also engaged."

"We'll have to talk to the families of missing women who fit the profile."

"Exactly." Morgan shakes his head and hits the gas. "I do not look forward to that."

\--

Morgan's theory matches the timeline. According to Spencer's calculations regarding the speed of the unsub's devolution, they have maybe a week to find the next victim--or, more likely, victims--before he kills her. That's more time than they often have. But if the killer knows they're chasing him, which he probably does, he might panic. He might kill faster.

They don't get anywhere that day, even though they all go out for Chinese (Spencer asks for a fork) and talk over the case, rehashing it over and over again. Rossi and Prentiss had gone to talk to the family of the newly-found victim, but unsurprisingly, they hadn't had any useful information to offer.

After dinner they go back to the station and study the timeline some more. At ten, Hotch sends them all back to the hotel to sleep. Spencer grabs a cup of coffee in the lobby.

\--

There's a knock at Spencer's hotel room door late that night. Still mostly awake, he answers it quickly.

"Emily." Her face is scrubbed clean, all that mascara gone, but he can see that the skin around her eyes is pinker than the rest. She's been crying. Her hair is a mess. She's so beautiful he thinks he's going to scream.

Then she smiles, just a slight quirking up of the corners of her lips, and his heart plummets, and his breath catches so that he couldn't make a sound if he wanted to.

"Can I come in?"

He's been standing there like an idiot. "Of course," he says, stepping aside and holding the door open for her. The bed is covered in papers, so he goes to pull out the chair from the untouched desk for her. She pushes some papers aside and sits down on the foot of the bed. It should bother him, but it doesn't. He sits down, rather abruptly, in the desk chair, staring at her profile, her bent head with her tangled hair falling over her shoulders.

There's a moment of silence.

"It must be hard to lose your friend," he says. It's a stupid, inane thing to say. He knows he's the least compassionate member of the team. Why has she come to him?

She doesn't seem to notice his faux pas, still staring at her hands. "I hadn't spoken to Katya in two years." There's a touch of hoarseness in her voice.

She knows he will keep her secrets. "Why not?" he asks, trying to keep his voice gentle.

Emily shakes her head, which can't help the tangles. "No good reason. Sometimes you just can't keep up, you know?"

"I know," he says softly. She knows he's never missed a letter to his mother, but how long has it been since he's talked to Ethan? He reaches out carefully and touches her arm with the tips of his fingers, drawing away quickly as though she's a lit stove. "It's not your fault, Emily. Don't start blaming yourself."

She reaches out without seeming to look at him and clasps his hand in her own. For a moment his entire being is focused on that soft, strong grip, but she's speaking again. "I know it's not my fault. But I was a bad friend, and now she's dead. She invited me to her wedding anyway," she adds, seemingly as an afterthought. Her head lifts slightly.

He squeezes her hand, gently, hardly daring. "She obviously didn't think you were that bad of a friend."

She squeezes back and his heart stops again. Spending time with Emily Prentiss is going to be bad for his health.

"When did you want to talk to her friends?" he asks, just for a change of subject.

She sighs. "I'm putting it off, aren't I? I'm sorry. I guess I was thinking we could wait until the funeral on Friday. They'll all be there, and then we don't have to waste time traveling from one to the other..."

"By Friday we could have another body," Spencer reminds her gently. "They might have seen something."

She nods and squeezes her eyes shut. "You're right. I'm sorry. We should do it tomorrow."

He reaches out tentatively and brushes a strand of hair back over her shoulder. "You don't need to keep apologizing. You've lost a friend. It's hard. I can take JJ to talk to them instead."

"No!" For a moment he's afraid he's made her angry, but she's just emphatic. "It has to be me. I can't let anyone else take... take responsibility for Katya."

"I understand." He remembers her determination to investigate Matthew Benton's death, and they hadn't even been sure at first that it was murder. "Tomorrow morning, then."

"Right. We can talk to Hotch or Rossi in the hotel at breakfast and head out right away. Don't let me put it off any longer."

He smiles. "I won't."

She squeezes his hand again, then lets go. He's startled for a moment, almost afraid, then releases her. His hand feels cold. She stands up. "Thanks for listening, Spencer. I feel a lot better."

"I'm glad I could help." It's not what he wants to say, but it's something. He walks her to the door and opens it so she can head back to her own hotel room. She nods at him as she leaves.

He stares into the dark hallway for a long moment before closing the door. There is no hiding from the facts any longer. He is in love with Emily Prentiss.

\--

They have no problem getting approval from Hotch to head out and talk to Katya's friends before hitting the station. He promises to call them when he gets there if there's anything new to report. Emily takes the wheel, of course; she has a better idea of where they're going and she knows Spencer doesn't like to drive, though she hasn't yet asked why. Maybe someday.

They stop at Janet Wheeler's house first. A man Emily doesn't know--not that she knows any more about Janet Wheeler than the face and the name--with impressive dreadlocks answers the door. Emily flashes her badge. "We'd like to speak to Janet Wheeler, please."

"Oh, sure." He's obviously startled, but pads back into the house (he's barefoot) and calls up the stairs, "Jan! The FBI wants to talk to you!"

Emily doesn't hear her response, but the man pads back to the door. "She says to come in. You want a cup of coffee or something?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," says Emily. She can sense Spencer's nod as he follows her in, hovering just beside and behind her. The man gestures towards comfortable-looking furniture in the living room and heads back for the kitchen.

Janet, a tall, athletic blonde, comes downstairs a few minutes later, rubbing a towel in her hands. "Sorry. I was on the treadmill. Is this about Katya?" Her voice starts out brusque and trails upwards to a squeak as she sees the two grim-faced FBI agents on the very well-cushioned couch.

Emily nods and jumps up, extending her hand. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm Emily Prentiss. We're investigating her death, but I'm also a friend of Katya's. Was a friend of Katya's."

Janet nods and sinks into a leather armchair. "Peter said you were investigating her death..."

Emily closes her eyes briefly. She knows what Spencer's thinking: they should have spoken to the friends right away, before Peter had a chance to talk to them, before they could compare their stories. It was stupid, just like trying to put off talking to them until after the funeral. She should take herself off the case. She's too emotional. But she can't take the chance of letting Katya's killer go free. "That's right," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. "We believe her death is connected to several others. I need you to tell me about the night she disappeared."

Janet nods again, but before she can speak, the dreadlocked man walks in carrying three mugs like an experienced waiter. He hands one to each of them. "Thanks, sweetheart," Janet says softly. He kisses her on the forehead and goes to stand behind her chair.

Emily takes a sip of the coffee, fortifying herself. It's very good. "What were the four of you doing that night?"

She describes their fun, bar-hopping evening--it's not quite a bachelorette party, but it is sort of a last night out with the girls. It all sounds pretty ordinary. Fun, but ordinary. When she finishes her narrative, Emily asks, "Did you notice anyone paying special attention to Katya? Maybe someone who was at more than one of your bars, or just anyone flirting with her?"

Janet shrugs. "There were guys buying drinks for all of us. But... there was one guy. He kept at it with Katya. He didn't seem to want to take 'engagement ring' as an answer."

"What did he look like?" Spencer asks quickly, leaning forward intensely.

"Early, mid thirties, maybe? White guy, brown hair, kind of thinning in the front. Pretty cute, though. I don't know why he kept hitting on Katya, there were plenty of other girls looking at him."

"Not including you, I hope," teases the man behind her.

She grins up at him. "Don't worry."

"Which bar was this at?" Emily interrupts, uncomfortable with their open flirtation and far too aware of Spencer's warmth beside her. She wraps her hands around the mug of coffee. It says "World's Best Dad" on the side.

"Oh... it was the Raven Lounge, that's right."

"Do you think you could come back to the station with us?" Spencer asks, his words tumbling over each other in their haste to communicate. "If you could give a description to our sketch artist, that would be really helpful."

Janet frowns. "I don't know... it was a while ago, and I was kind of drunk."

"Please," Emily says. "Anything you can give us will be helpful."

She nods reluctantly and stands. "All right. Mind if I change out of my workout clothes?"

"Sure," says Emily. Janet runs lightly upstairs. Emily and Spencer drink their coffee in silence as they wait for her.

\--

"This isn't much of a sketch," says JJ doubtfully.

"I know," Emily says. "But it's a start. Look, we're going to go out and talk to the other two who were out with her. Maybe we should bring the sketch artist with us. They might be able to clarify it."

JJ nods and hands them back the sketch. "I'll wait until you get back to do another press conference, then. A sketch is better than nothing."

The second friend doesn't remember the guy flirting with Katya, even after they show her the sketch. The third remembers him, but doesn't think the picture is of him. She gives the sketch artist another description, but it turns out worse than the first. All she seems to remember are his grin and his beady eyes.

\--

"Profile," says Hotch. "What do we have so far?"

"He's got to be wealthy," says Morgan. "If he started out hiring housekeepers. Maybe has a family? But if he's a single rich guy, he doesn't need a family to have an excuse for someone else to clean."

"He can't possibly have a family," says Rossi. "Not one that's living in the same house as him, anyway. He couldn't be keeping those girls for as long as he is with other people in the house."

Spencer nods. "Based on the victims, he's white and in his mid twenties to early forties. Janet Wheeler said the guy looked like he was in his early thirties." He shifts to look at Morgan, remembering. "Did you find any missing women who were engaged?"

Morgan nods and passes Spencer two slim folders. "Lucy Fairground has been missing for two weeks. Dana Wright, six days."

"Right after Katya was killed," he mutters, looking through the folders. The only significant thing is the pictures. They continue to toss about thoughts on the profile, then Hotch and Rossi head out to present it and the sketch to the cops. A few minutes later, Morgan's phone rings.

"Hey, beautiful, you got me, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ."

"You holding up, Emily?" is the first thing Garcia says, her voice tight with anxiety.

"I'm holding up," Emily says. "You have something that will help us catch this guy?"

"I think so. I looked into the other missing women. One of them, Jeanne Clements, went missing a month before Dora Selby did. Now I didn't find any official employment records for her, but when I was looking into her finances I found that she received two checks two weeks apart, the second one a week before she disappeared."

"Paychecks," Spencer says. "Were they for housekeeping services?"

"It doesn't say. But they're signed by a Nicholas Webb."

"Garcia, can you--" Morgan started, but he was interrupted by a smug-sounding technical analyst.

"Already on it. He lives in Fairmount. He's single and has a nice big house all to himself. And the housekeeper he had before Jeanne, Natanya Petrova? She's an immigrant, so I couldn't find much on her, and no one's reported her missing... but there were credit card records and stuff like that, up until a few months ago. To be precise, the records stop the same day Jeanne Clements went missing."

"She's his first victim," says Emily. She's standing now, her hands pressed flat on the table. "Garcia, can you find her family?"

"If she has any, they must still be home in Mother Russia. I can only find her parents' names."

"We talked to Jeanne Clements' family," JJ says. "She wasn't engaged."

"Maybe he got her because she was already his housekeeper, and then decided he wanted engaged women?" Morgan hazards.

"But why does he care if they're engaged?" Spencer asks.

"There's another answer I think I have," says Garcia. "Three months before Natanya's records stop and Jeanne disappears, there's a big charge on Webb's credit card. Seven thousand dollars to Littman Jewelers."

"That's going to buy you a pretty big rock," says Emily.

"Can you find out who he's engaged to, Garcia?" Morgan asks. "His victims have got to be surrogates for her."

"Sorry, gorgeous, I can't find any connections. Plenty of bills for dinner, liquor store, that sort of thing, but it's all in his name, as far as I can tell. I think you're going to have to ask him yourselves."

"Let's go," says Emily, buckling on her gun and heading for the door. "Garcia, send me the address!"

"It's in your GPSes," Garcia says, and hangs up.

Morgan jumps up and stops her with a hand on her arm. "We have to tell Rossi and Hotch first."

"Tell us what?" Rossi asks as he walks into the room.

"Garcia thinks she's found him," Morgan says.

Rossi takes one look at Emily and turns back to the doorway. "Hotch! We've got something!"

They quickly explain the situation. Hotch looks grim. "We need a warrant."

"We don't have time for a warrant," Emily snaps. "It's six-thirty. He's probably home from work. He could kill Lucy Fairground tonight." She's practically vibrating with readiness. Spencer feels helpless.

"Fine, we'll go," says Hotch. "JJ, see what you can do about a warrant. Maybe we'll see something while we're there."

That's all Emily needs. She's out the door in a second. Spencer is right behind her.

\--

Aggressive driving seems to calm Emily down. "I'm not going to confront him," she says eventually, though Spencer hasn't said anything, critical or otherwise. "We'll tell him we're investigating Jeanne Clements' disappearance and ask if he knows anything. We won't act suspicious. Maybe he'll let us in. If he does, you take a look around while I question him."

Spencer nods and gets his phone to inform the rest of the team.

Emily pulls up right in front of the opulent house, though it's not a legal parking lane. They hop out and rush up to the door. The doorbell makes one of those chimes rich people pick so they sound elegant.

Webb answers after a minute. He looks just like the sketch.

"Nicholas Webb? FBI." Emily sounds perfectly calm and professional.

"FBI?" He sounds startled, but not unusually so. "How can I help you?"

"Can we come in?" Emily asks.

"If you have questions, you can ask them here." Webb sounds wary. Spencer is taller than both of them, and he takes a look inside. A hall with a mirror on the end and doors on the right. A stairway and beyond it a kitchen are just barely in the range of his vision to the left.

Emily nods, as though she's perfectly comfortable with this. Spencer admires her restraint. "We're looking into the disappearance of Jeanne Clements. I understand you had hired her to do some housekeeping for you."

"That's true." Webb's grip tightens on the doorknob. Is that movement at the top of the stairs?

"When was the last time you saw her, sir?"

The "sir" seems to relax him. He lets the door open a bit. "I'm not sure. It was months ago. I thought she'd just quit. Left me in a bind. Do you--"

He's cut off by a scream. It's more than movement at the top of the stairs. It's a woman, bruised and wrapped only in a sheet, running down them. "Help me!" she shrieks, wild and desperate.

Spencer fumbles for his phone. Emily goes for her gun. Before she can aim it, though, Webb has grabbed an umbrella from a stand beside the door and hit her in the head with it.

"Hotch! We need backup!" Spencer shouts. But the phone hasn't dialed. He's aware of Emily stumbling, dazed, beside him, of Webb running for the stairs. He switches his phone to his left hand and pulls his gun. "Stop or I'll shoot, Webb!" Hotch probably heard some of that. Webb keeps going. "We've got Lucy Fairground here! Need backup and ambulances! Webb, stop!"

Webb is almost up the stairs. But Spencer is a better shot than he was four years ago.

\--

When the other agents arrive, they find Webb groaning at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a bullet wound in his thigh, and Spencer keeping Emily seated in the hallway. "Go find Lucy Fairground, she's upstairs," he tells Hotch breathlessly. "Dana Wright has got to be here somewhere, too."

Hotch and Rossi head upstairs. Morgan opens the first door in the hallway. Emily tries to stand up again. "I'm fine, Spencer."

He presses down on her shoulders. "Not until the medics take a look at you. You took a blow to the head."

"We'll take over, then," says a humor-filled voice. A medic crouches down next to her and nods to Spencer. "You do your job."

Spencer stands. Another pair of medics are tending to Webb. Hotch is at the top of the stairs, helping Lucy Fairground take them one at a time. "She's in the basement," Lucy is saying shakily.

"Reid?" Hotch says.

"On it," Spencer replies instantly. The door to the basement is in the kitchen. He fumbles for a lightswitch, doesn't find one, and heads down the steps anyway. "Dana Wright?" There's a cry, like a cut-off sob. It's shadowy down here but there are some windows. He looks around for her. "It's all right, I'm FBI. You're safe."

"Oh god," she sobs. He rounds a corner made by some filing cabinets and sees her, huddled on a bed, a chain running from her ankle to the foot. She looks up, presenting a tear-streaked face. "Lucy. Is she okay?"

"She's going to be fine," he says soothingly, crouching down to examine the chain. It's pretty solid.

"The key," Dana gasps. She raises her left arm with an effort and points. "He put it just out of my reach."

Spencer has no trouble reaching it. He unlocks her and she scrambles to her feet, then sways. She's tiny, barely five feet tall, and he has to bend a little to get an arm around her in a way that supports her. "Can you walk?"

She nods. "I have to get out of here."

Spencer understands. He helps her out of the basement and up the stairs, then puts her into the care of the medics. The hallway is clear now. For a moment he looks around, half-panicking, for Emily, then realizes she's probably in an ambulance. Morgan is calling his name from the backyard.

He joins the other agents there. Morgan and Rossi have shovels, digging in places it's clear the dirt has already been disturbed. Morgan tosses the shovel out of the way and bends down to brush away dirt. "It's Jeanne Clements."

"Then this must be Natanya Petrova," says Rossi, his voice soft. "Well. This'll be a long trial, but we won't have any problems with conviction."

Spencer feels a hand on his shoulder. "Great job in there," Hotch says quietly. "I'm impressed, to be honest. You managed to deal with your cell phone and your gun at the same time."

Spencer turns to look at his mentor, who is actually smiling slightly. Pride sneaks in to replace some of the sickness at what Webb has done to these women and the worry for Emily. "Could you hear me all right? I was just trying to shout in the general direction of the phone."

"I could hear enough. But you didn't need us."

Spencer smiles. "This time I aimed for his leg and I hit it."

\--

Once the crime scene guys have taken over, they go to the hospital. JJ is already there, talking to Lucy Fairground. Morgan goes to check on Dana Wright. Hotch and Rossi go to see whether Webb is out of surgery. Spencer notices all this peripherally as he's walking as fast as he reasonably can in a hospital to see Emily.

She's sitting up with a bandage on her head and a disgruntled look on her face when he finds her. She smiles when she sees him and indicates the chair to her left. He sits down, smiling faintly to see that she's all right, and takes her hand when she reaches out. "How are you doing?"

"I feel fine. They want to keep me overnight, though." She grimaces. "I guess it's okay. I have to stay in Philadelphia until Katya's funeral tomorrow anyway."

He nods. "Better safe than sorry." He hates how trite it sounds, but he can't find the words to explain just how worried he was, just how much she means to him. He probably shouldn't say it anyway. His eyes trace the lines and planes of her face, lingering over the bandage.

"That was a pretty good shot in there," she says.

He grins. "You think so?"

She nods, then winces. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't do that. But yeah, I was impressed. I would have been afraid of hitting Lucy after he got that far up."

"I was just thinking about stopping him however I could," he admits, then blinks. "You couldn't see him."

Her grin is almost defiant. "I heard him fall. I'm right, aren't I? He was almost to the top?"

"Yeah." Then he drops her hand, snatches his own back into his lap, as Hotch approaches.

"Doing all right, Prentiss?"

She rolls her eyes. "They want to keep me overnight."

He nods. "Well, Webb is pretty delusional, it looks like. He keeps calling Lucy Fairground 'Natanya' and saying he had to keep her safe."

"Safe from the world," Spencer says.

"Apparently so. It looks like he hired Natanya to keep house, then fell in love and got engaged, so he hired Jeanne Clements do to the work. We haven't worked out why he killed Natanya, but when he did, he just kept trying to replace her."

Emily swallows. "I have to call Peter."

"You'll talk to him tomorrow at the funeral," Hotch says. "We'll all be there." He looks to Spencer, as though for confirmation, and Spencer nods firmly. They don't go to many victims' funerals, but he has to be there. For Emily.

"Right, well, back to the paperwork," Hotch says with a trace of humor. "Prentiss, you rest, okay? Reid, make sure she does it," he adds with a raised eyebrow.

Spencer smiles. "I'll stay here until she goes to sleep."

Hotch nods, turns, and leaves. Emily gives Spencer a strange look, confusion mixed with something else. "It's what, seven-thirty? You'll be here for hours."

"That's okay. There's..." He tilts his head to look at the magazine rack on the other side of the bed. "Three whole magazines over there. And I bet they'll bring you some jello."

She laughs loudly, only stopping when she puts a hand to the side of her head with a wince of pain. He laughs along with her, then frowns at the wince. "Do you want me to call the nurse?"

"No, I'm fine." She reaches over him to pull the privacy curtain closed. He watches her hand as it moves across, fascinated by her movement and wondering what she's up to. When the curtain is extended, she captures his hand again and his heartbeat speeds up. "Thanks for sitting with me." Her smile is heartbreakingly beautiful.

Spencer's terrible at hiding his feelings--at least from the team, who, even if they weren't all profilers, he would trust with all his being and therefore be unable at a deep subconscious level to deceive. "Emily, I... I have to tell you something."

Her smile widens. "Yeah?"

He looks down at their clasped hands. If he keeps looking at that smile he's going to lose his entire train of thought. He takes a deep breath, then, "I'm in love with you. I think I have been for weeks. I know you don't feel the same way, and you _shouldn't_ , we're a team, but I can't hide it and I--"

"Spencer, stop," she says, and he stops, heart sinking.

She reaches out with her right hand and touches his cheek, then puts her fingers under his chin and lifts his face. She's still smiling. "I love you too," she says.

That's the last response he expected to hear. "What? No, Emily--I mean--"

She sighs with exasperation, leans over, and kisses him. He's so startled that all he can do is kiss her back, and a moment later when he realizes that's all she _wants_ him to do, he leans forward and puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her, and kisses her.

After a few minutes they both draw back a little to breathe and she's still smiling like Helen of Troy must have done to launch those thousand ships. He's smiling, too, in a way that he's pretty sure looks completely idiotic but he can't care right now. "I knew it a long time ago," she says as though they were never interrupted.

"You did?"

"When we were in the cult compound together." She's still smiling, but there are tears shining in her eyes, too. "When Cyrus had that gun to your head I knew that I would and could do anything in the world to keep you from getting hurt."

"But--why didn't you say anything?"

"I was waiting for you. And if you never... if you never said anything, then I figured I would get over it. I'm a lot better at hiding my feelings than you."

He can't think of a response to that, so he just kisses her again. He keeps kissing her until a nurse clears her throat and they pull apart, startled.

The nurse sets down a tray of food and gives Emily a severe look. "Make sure that's as active as you get tonight." She walks away without another word.

Spencer steals the jello off Emily's tray. Then they just start giggling.

\--

It's gray and drizzly the next day at Katya's funeral. It seems appropriate. Before the funeral starts, Emily takes Peter aside and explains that they've caught the man who killed her. Peter cries, and hugs Emily. And when the priest begins to talk, Emily's gloved hand finds Spencer's.


End file.
